


Seashells

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band), Z.Tao (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Angst, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28647360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: what am i if i cannot give you the one thing that you have ever asked forYifan and Zitao navigate through the grief of having lost a child they never had.
Relationships: Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao/Wu Yi Fan | Kris
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> this is an mpreg fic and this fic will also heavily deal with the topic of miscarriage (no graphic depictions) and grief so if you are uncomfortable with that, please feel free to click away.
> 
> i wrote this in a way that tao is the one in their relationship that can get pregnant. however this fic is not an a/b/o fic nor are there any other dynamics surrounding secondary genders. this fic is just set in today’s contemporary setting.

the exception to the rule

* * *

Zitao wouldn’t think that he would spend be spending his Friday nights like this – watching a movie together with his boyfriend of five years, all the while taking care of a baby.

You see, Qian had given birth to a beautiful, little baby girl just about a year ago – and _of course_ , the most obvious candidates to be her babysitter whenever Qian went on date nights out with her husband are the baby’s two uncles. Well, Yifan _isn’t_ the baby’s uncle, or at least not yet, but since Zitao and Yifan had been living together for the past two years – even moving into a new house just a couple of months ago when Yifan got his promotion and was able to afford a mortgage – they take on the responsibility together.

The disturbance, if you want to call it that, is a welcome one in their household. Zitao adores the little baby girl, sometimes he can’t believe how the little bundle of joy looks so _much_ like his older sister.

But if he’s being honest, what Zitao loves _most_ is seeing Yifan with the baby.

Zitao knows that his partner has a tendency to overthink and overanalyze – an extension of his stressful job as a management consultant, perhaps – and though that tendency in their relationship has been pruned simply because of the degree of familiarity that they have developed over the years, Zitao sees glimpses of it in the way Yifan interacts with Qian’s baby.

Whenever Qian drops by their home before going out with her husband, baby bag and carrier in tow, Zitao would make small talk with her before bringing in the carrier and the baby to their living room, resuming whatever movie had been playing on the television screen.

But Yifan – Yifan would linger and stay by the doorway a little bit longer, making sure with Qian that everything they would need to watch the baby, if only for several hours, is in the bag, making sure that Qian would be available to call if anything did happen, and running through the list of foods that Qian’s baby doesn’t react well to (a list that he’s already memorized) just to make sure that his memory serves him right and there would be no allergic reactions for the night.

To this, Qian would assure him that _everything will be fine, Yifan! We’re only going for a couple of hours_. She would playfully joke that Yifan worries more for her own baby than she does, and rhetorically ask him _you would be a great Dad, you know that?_

Zitao agrees to this rhetorical question that he hears just out of earshot of the living room, though he is yet to profess it vocally. Zitao knows that Yifan’s tendency to worry just a little _too_ much, though one that does not extend to anything unhealthy, of course, is a natural inclination Yifan has for the things that he loves and is fond of.

It is an inclination that Zitao, too, is the subject of. Before moving in together, he would always drive Zitao back to his apartment, would let him know whenever he’s busy so as to not make Zitao worry, and sometimes even leaving him sweet, little gifts if only to make the younger know just how much he is appreciated.

Such inclination is one that is suitable for a father’s; mindful of the little things, always making sure that his loved ones are well and taken care of. So _yes,_ Yifan would be an absolutely _wonderful_ father, Zitao thinks, as he watches Yifan talk with Qian by the doorway, or as he studies the way Yifan cradles the baby in his arms, like he is doing right now because the baby had been crying for the last couple of minutes when they were still watching the television.

Upon hearing the cry, Zitao had initially stood up from where he was laying down, head on Yifan’s lap, but Yifan quickly let him sit back down with a small murmur of _it’s okay, I got it_ , before softly shifting to let Zitao’s head fall to one of the pillows of the sofa and standing up. He walks over to the baby carrier, scoops the little girl in his arms and puts her over his shoulder.

Zitao can’t do anything but smile and watch as his boyfriend – though tired and disheveled from having worked long hours at the office, still donning the white shirt from the day – volunteers to calm down the crying baby and let his own partner rest. But the baby hasn’t stopped crying for a couple more minutes now.

“Babe, I think I should bring her to our room,” Yifan says, just loud enough that Zitao can hear amidst the baby’s cries, turning to the younger as he cradles the baby’s head with his hand.

Zitao hums. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll pause the movie for you.”

“I’ll try to get her to sleep. I’ll be back soon,” Yifan says quietly, before disappearing into the hallway to their bedroom.

Really, it isn’t lost to Zitao that Yifan, his partner that always has so much _affection_ to give, dearly wants to have a child of his own – a new life brought to the world as a product of their love, whom Yifan would be able to love unconditionally just as Yifan does Zitao.

The subject has come up a number of times during the course of the relationship, though only brought up subtly enough by Yifan so as to conceal just how _much_ he wants to have a child of his own. Small, sweet comments like _if we had a kid, I'm sure they would be just as beautiful as you_ escape the elder's lips sometimes as they bask in the soft light of the morning sun. Other times, lighthearted remarks such as _I don't know what I would do if our child is as mischievous as you_ are made whenever Yifan finds himself on the short edge of the stick of Zitao's teasing.

Though having a child is something that Yifan so dearly yearns for, especially that he has aged to be thirty now, he never pushes the agenda onto Zitao. Yifan understands that having a child comes with not only various responsibilities, but many expectations, be it physical and emotional, on the part of Zitao who would be the one to carry their child. Those lighthearted comments are where he draws the line – just enough to let the younger know what Yifan wants but does not push further into a territory where Yifan would find himself putting Zitao into an uncomfortable position, one full of burden and expectations.

While Yifan puts away the baby, Zitao pauses the movie to walk to the kitchen and refill the glasses of wine they had been drinking to accompany their evening. He returns to the living room once more, preoccupying himself by checking some e-mails on his phone while waiting for the elder to return. But several minutes pass, and Zitao finds himself to be alone still. Slightly puzzled, he decides to go to the bedroom to check on Yifan and the baby.

So Zitao walks past the hallway to their bedroom, socked feet thudding lightly on the hardwood floors.

And _oh,_ what a sight waits for Zitao in the bedroom. A sight that makes Zitao’s heart absolutely _soar_ and swell in warmth and feelings that he _himself_ is not sure that he has the vocabulary for.

You see, Zitao has never much entertained the idea of having children. It’s not that he does not like children, like the other childfree adults in their late twenties are – in fact, Zitao _adores_ them. It is maybe because of this that the thought of having his own concerns him, for the many responsibilities that having children entail. From having to be the one to rear and give birth to the child, to making sure that they will grow up healthy and happy, Zitao is not so sure that he envisions himself to be able to fill in such big shoes.

But this assumption of his is being tested. It has been tested for the past several weeks, every time he sees Yifan hold the baby close, every time Yifan smiles full of adoration as he holds Qian’s baby, cooing and making silly faces to make the baby laugh.

It is especially being tested _now_ that he sees the gentle giant that is his lover, still fully in work clothes yet sprawled across the bed, tufts of hair sticking out in all directions, and an endearing trail of drool escaping his mouth, completely _fast asleep_ next to the baby who is also deep in slumber, almost comically tiny next to the tall expanse of Yifan’s body.

Zitao clutches at his chest, letting out an involuntary _aww,_ as his face scrunches into a funny expression because the sight in front of him is just _too_ adorable.

It’s a strange mixture of emotions that fills Zitao’s chest.

There is the familiar warmth of love brought on by the sight of Yifan in such a vulnerable and endearing state. But there is also a _yearning_ that Zitao cannot quite place a finger on.

Perhaps, it’s a yearning to see the same scenario unfold – just with a baby that is _their own_.

And that’s when Zitao realizes. Though the thought of having a baby clouds Zitao’s mind with doubt and concern – the thought of having a baby _with Yifan_ fills his heart with _so much_ love and yearning.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , the feeling is enough to encourage Zitao to push past his own doubts of his ability to be a parent. That perhaps, he is strong enough to bear the uncertainty and obligation that surrounds having a child of their own, especially if it means that he will be able to live through so many more heartwarming and fond moments such as this one, with his own family – with _Yifan_.

* * *

“Yifan,” Zitao starts as he pours coffee into their mugs in the early morning, when dew has just about settled in their windows, and they are once again left to each other’s sole company with the nephew already picked up by Qian the night before.

“Yes baby,” Yifan answers in kind, walking up to the counter to stand beside Zitao, leaning in to peck Zitao’s cheek before taking one of the mugs from his hands and taking a sip of the hot drink.

Zitao smiles at him – a smile that is warm, cheeky, and every bit Zitao. “You know, I’ve been thinking…” he says, and he playfully averts his gaze away from Yifan, feigning bashfulness as if hiding a secret from the elder.

Yifan picks up on this, for it not being the first time Zitao plays this trick on him. But he plays along, leaning into Zitao further. “What is it?” he says, grinning from ear to ear at Zitao’s antics.

“Don’t you think…” Zitao starts again, trailing off. He tugs at the sleeve of Yifan’s sweatshirt and the elder wraps his arms around Zitao, staring intently at his younger lover, noting how his eyes gleam behind the ruffled hair left from the night’s sleep.

“Don’t you think this house is a little too big for just two people?”

Yifan’s eyes widen and his grin falters – but only because he almost cannot believe the implication behind Zitao’s remark.

“Tao,” Yifan murmurs carefully. He lifts one of his hands to cup Zitao’s cheek. “Are you really saying…?”

“ _Yes._ Yes, I am,” Zitao answers, not a hint of hesitation in his voice. He smiles so brightly that it tugs at Yifan’s heartstrings. “We should try, Yifan.”

It takes a moment for Yifan fully comprehends just what this _means_ – it means that Zitao has agreed to starting a family with him, that he _trusts_ Yifan so much that he knows Yifan would be there every step of the way. Out of everything, it fills Yifan with a surge of _relief_ that Zitao believes in him so. He spares any reluctance to engulf Zitao into a hug, audibly breathing a sigh of relief before muttering, “ _Oh,_ thank you so much baby.”

Zitao laughs airily at Yifan’s reaction. “You’re welcome,” he says the words into the crook of Yifan’s neck. “If you react this emotionally just by me agreeing to have a baby, I don’t know what’ll happen when I actually get pregnant.”

The remark elicits a laugh from Yifan. “Sorry, I can’t help it,” he says as he buries his face onto the top of Zitao’s head before pulling out slightly to press a kiss onto Zitao’s temple. “I just love you so much.”

Zitao hums, the knowledge that he could make his partner so happy washes him over with a feeling of contentedness. “I love you too.”


	2. two

you're so cheesy it's a good thing i already love you

* * *

From the kitchen, Zitao can hear the sound of the low rumbling of a car engine approaching their driveway. Soon enough, footsteps can be heard, the front door is unlocked, and Yifan shuffles into the house.

“I’m home,” the elder announces as he walks to the kitchen to see Zitao, the savory scent of the younger’s cooking greeting his senses.

It has been a couple of months now since they have decided to try for a baby. In that span of time, Yifan has allowed Zitao to leave his job at the marketing agency; a decision they can make with Yifan’s current salary. This has allowed the younger more time to rest, and without the stress and burdens of working life, hopefully, it will be helpful in their efforts to conceive.

This is how they spend their evenings now, Yifan coming home to Zitao cooking their dinner. With his newly founded free time, Zitao has been indulging in his hobby of cooking; trying out various recipes that at times are eccentric, such as that time he had cooked lamb chops with a side of Belgian endives, or the other time when he had ventured into cooking Italian food by making orecchiette from scratch. To all of which, Yifan is always more than happy to finish, grateful for all the labor and love that Zitao puts into their meal.

Yifan is always happy to come home to Zitao. Before their current arrangement, however, when both of them were still working, their evenings always seemed more like a brief break from the demands of their daily life than precious time to spend with each other. Both of them were always exhausted upon arriving home, not having the energy nor mental capacity to truly cherish each other’s presence.

Yifan would not admit it, because he is not seem possessive over Zitao – Zitao can work and do whatever he wants if he so chooses – but coming home to a Zitao that is well-rested, cooking a delicious meal (even if Yifan never quite understood the names of the recipes he uses), and up to tease and talk with him, kindles the romantic spark inside his heart.

“Hey,” Zitao answers quietly, smiling at nothing in particular as he mans the stovetop. Yifan is standing behind him, so he cranes his neck back a little bit and they kiss each other briefly – a ritual, of sorts, for every time Yifan comes home, that they have adopted these past couple of months.

Yifan steps back to shrug off his suit jacket and set down his keys, the piece of metal clinking against the counter, before he returns to his position behind Zitao. This time, he hugs Zitao from behind, setting his chin on Zitao’s shoulder.

They remain silent until Yifan starts playfully nibbling at a spot on Zitao’s neck, making an exaggerated gnawing sound. It’s one of the spots that make Zitao ticklish, and Yifan knows that, purposefully teasing the younger. It elicits a giggle from Zitao who says, “Yifan, stop.”

Yifan, though simply being playful, immediately stops it, always respecting what Zitao says. Instead, he opts to press a kiss onto the spot that he previously nibbled. “What’s for dinner?” he asks.

“Salmon with lemon butter and some veggies,” Zitao answers easily. He flips over the fish on the cast-iron skillet, and he turns to Yifan, letting the salmon sear.

Yifan hums. So tonight they’re eating a simpler dinner, compared to the other dishes Zitao had cooked for them. Yifan leans in so their faces are closer to each other’s. “Sounds good,” he croons.

Yifan’s hand that was wrapped around Zitao’s back trails downwards along the younger’s spine, stopping at the small of his back, just above his waist. “And for dessert…?”

Zitao quirks an eyebrow at Yifan’s question. He grins before reaching up to pinch Yifan’s cheek. “Naughty,” he says. He coaxes Yifan’s hands off of him, pushing at Yifan’s chest jokingly.

“Go shower first. You smell like cigarettes,” he adds. There isn’t any real distaste in Zitao’s words; he knows of Yifan’s vice of indulging in the occasional cigarette and he does not mind it. Yifan’s colleagues, on the other hand, all smoke habitually, which means the scent is stronger and lingers onto Yifan every time he comes home from work.

“Of course, baby,” Yifan affectionately pinches Zitao’s cheek back. “Can’t wait for dinner.”

* * *

It seems just like any other normal evening for the two of them – playful banter between Yifan who had just come home and Zitao who is in the middle of cooking, followed by a conversation during dinner about how their days went and the television show that they’re currently watching together (right now, they’re watching _The Crown_ – Yifan’s choice – and even though Zitao has all the free time at home, he never watches new episodes without his lover).

Unbeknownst to Yifan, however, there is something Zitao is currently retrieving from their bedroom as he leaves the elder alone in the kitchen.

You see, Zitao had started to develop a morning sickness these past couple of days – a nausea that creeps upon him in the late mornings and altering his usually good appetite, alongside fatigue that Zitao does not usually feel. It had made him suspicious that their attempts to conceive had been successful.

As much as he wanted Yifan to accompany him to his first doctor’s appointment for his pregnancy, he had been excited to keep this a little secret for a while. It’s a little childish, but he wanted to be the one to officially break the news to Yifan. And though he hates to admit it, a small part of him is wary to involve Yifan so soon, worried of false positives and disappointment. So instead, he had asked Qian to go with him to the doctor to obtain an official check–up and confirmation.

Zitao holds a black and white picture in between his fingers.

 _Congratulations, you’re five weeks in_ , the doctor had said. Zitao’s stomach flutters with happiness as he thumbs at the picture of the ultrasound the doctor had taken during his appointment. Though it is yet to show the shape of a baby, it still shows that there is a life budding inside of him – a life that is a product of his and Yifan’s love.

Even though he thinks to surprise Yifan in a more adorable way – perhaps purchasing baby shoes or little baby clothes to signify that there would soon be a little one to wear them, right now what he wants most is to share the wonderful news with his clueless lover in the other room.

He shuffles outside the room into the kitchen, hovering over Yifan who is still sitting down, just having finished his meal. Zitao is barely able to contain his own giddiness, anticipating Yifan’s reaction to the news. He smiles cheekily at Yifan, arms behind his back to hide the picture in his hands.

“Do you like it?” he asks Yifan of the meal, if only to break the ice between them.

Yifan looks up at him, returning the smile. “It tastes great baby,” he answers simply, before standing up to put away the dish at the sink. When Yifan turns back, Zitao is still looking at him, a grin plastered onto his face.

It’s a grin that Yifan has seen thousands of times, in various backdrops and instances throughout their time together, but it is not one that he has ever grown tired of – it is still one that manages to make his heart beat faster.

“What’s up?” Yifan asks, chuckling lightly because Zitao’s emotions always radiate onto him even though he doesn’t always know or understand the reasons behind them.

Zitao stares at him for a moment.

He inhales, and suddenly his expression turns into something more sentimental – Zitao himself doesn’t quite understand either why the grin he previously held falters.

The atmosphere shifts from playful to vulnerable, but before Yifan can say anything, with a shaking voice and quivering lips Zitao shows Yifan the picture he is holding in his hands and he says, “ _I’m pregnant._ ”

The words don’t yet register in Yifan’s mind as he takes the picture into his own hands.

He stares at it, a lump forming in his throat and a clenching sensation arising in his chest as the reality of the situation settles into him. He looks up to meet Zitao’s gaze – the younger’s eyes already brimming with tears.

They both instinctively embrace each other – wordlessly clinging onto each other.

Zitao sniffles into Yifan’s shoulder. He hadn’t anticipated that he would suddenly be so emotional like this. After all, he had been able to control his emotions even after the doctor’s appointment. Perhaps sharing the news with his love somehow concretizes the fact that he is now carrying their baby, and the reality of the situation has only now settled into him as well.

But he laughs when Yifan mutters quietly, “ _I’m so happy_ ,” as if it’s not obvious enough the emotion that the elder is feeling. It is understandable though, given how overwhelmed Yifan is that those are the only words he can express – so overwhelmed because the thing he had longed for is starting to become a reality.

After a while, Zitao faces Yifan, face glowing. The initial rush of emotions had subsided. “Sorry I went to the doctor with Qian,” he says, explaining the story behind the ultrasound. “I wanted to keep it a secret from you so I could tell you myself.”

Yifan bites at his lower lip, grinning. He wipes away the tears from Zitao’s cheeks with his thumbs. “You really know how to play me.”

“Worth it,” Zitao jests. Yifan can feel Zitao’s grin against his mouth as he leans in, noses bumping and lips sliding against each other’s.

Zitao pulls away from the kiss just the slightest, their foreheads pressing together. There is a glint in his eyes that Yifan knows is only present when his younger lover is truly happy, and Yifan thinks that Zitao is the most gorgeous when he is full of joy like this.

“ _You’re going to be a father_ ,” Zitao says.

The statement is so simple and so _obvious,_ but it holds so much weight – so many _possibilities_ for them. Its magnitude bears on Yifan’s heart.

* * *

Yifan and Zitao lie down on the bed; Yifan by Zitao’s side, lazily draping his arm around Zitao’s waist.

It is not quite their bedtime yet, but after coming down from the adrenaline of breaking the news of the pregnancy to Yifan, he wants nothing other than to snuggle into the warmth of Yifan that he is so well acquainted with. Yifan, of course, gladly complies when his partner tugs him to bed.

They spend the rest of the evening talking about nothing and everything before falling into a comfortable silence. Yifan opts to stare at Zitao – his brown eyes warm and kind. Unconsciously, Yifan’s hands reach up to tuck away the messy bangs from Zitao’s forehead so he can fully look into Zitao’s eyes.

It’s such an intimate thing, to look into one’s eyes amid silence, and though Zitao is, by nature, bold and confident, this is the one thing that can turn him bashful for how vulnerable it makes him feel. Yifan is the only person he feels comfortable with to do this, gazing back and hoping that his eyes speak enough to show just how much he loves and adores Yifan.

The moment passes when Yifan shifts lower onto the bed. He lays his head on Zitao’s side, just next to his stomach, his arm still around Zitao’s lower body.

“What are you doing?” Zitao asks softly, and he starts combing his fingers through Yifan’s ash brown hair.

Yifan hums, snuggling further into Zitao’s side. He places his ear right on top of Zitao’s stomach. “I’m gonna talk to the baby,” he mumbles as sleepiness starts to creep into him.

Zitao laughs, playing with the ends of Yifan’s hair. “Yeah? What are you gonna say?” he encourages playfully, a part of him teasing just how cheesy Yifan is being, the other part genuinely curious as to what Yifan is about to say.

Yifan nuzzles into Zitao’s stomach. “I know you can’t hear me yet since you’re still…. _Really small,_ ” he murmurs. “But we love you. So much already. And I hope you stay healthy because that alone is enough to make us the happiest dads _ever_ ,” he slurs.

Zitao chuckles, smiling at the words. Behind his cold, perhaps intimidating demeanor, Yifan truly is such a sap.

Soon enough, however, there’s another lump building inside of Zitao’s throat that he manages to swallow. Yifan’s words remind him of all of the worries that made him reluctant to have a child with Yifan in the first place – the baby’s health being one of them. He pauses the movement of his fingers that are still entwined in Yifan’s hair.

Yifan seems to notice this as he tightens his embrace around Zitao’s waist.

“I hope so, too.”

* * *

“ _Yeah, sure. You can come over to the house and do it tomorrow. Tomorrow should be fine_.”

Zitao can hear Yifan’s voice just out of earshot of the living room. He has some sense as to where the elder is, so he starts walking down the hallway. He peeks through the door of one of the rooms that is ajar.

Zitao is ten weeks in now, the bump in his stomach slowly but surely growing. They have decided to turn one of the rooms in the house – that was previously vacant other than to store a number of memorabilia – into a baby room.

For the past few weeks, they have accumulated a number of furniture and one too many plush animals for the room (Yifan had no idea IKEA sold so many stuffed animals and baby toys), and it warms Zitao’s heart that the room is beginning to resemble a cozy space where they will be able to take care of the baby.

Tonight, Zitao finds Yifan in the room and he steps in to join his lover.

Yifan is standing off to the side, next to the cupboard, his hand trailing against the surface of the piece of furniture. His other hand is holding his phone up to his ear. He is talking to someone, Zitao isn’t sure who, when he turns and notices Zitao is in the room with him. He wraps up the call quickly, thanking the person on the other end.

“It’s ten pm, Yifan,” Zitao states plainly. “Who was that?” he asks, and he does so not out of insecurity, but simply out of curiosity as to who would be willing to make a phone call so late at night.

Yifan sets down the phone on top of the cupboard. He rubs at his nape out of habit. “It’s… The baby shop from downtown.”

Zitao tilts his head to the side, a small smile forming on his lips. He walks up to approach Yifan. “Didn’t know they were open so late.”

Yifan smiles sheepishly, sensing where Zitao is going with this conversation. “They have a twenty-four-hour hotline, you know.”

Zitao loosely wraps his arms around the elder’s waist, baby bump in between them. “That’s good news for anxious dads like you,” he teases. “What were you calling them for?”

Funnily, Zitao’s lighthearted comment _does_ explain why Yifan is making a phone call so late at night.

“I was just checking on the furniture here and I never realized how they have so many pointy ends,” he huffs. “Honestly… With the pregnancy, now I’m realizing that _everything_ has so many pointy ends. We need to get them baby proofed. I can’t sleep before knowing this room will be safe for our baby,” he rants, furrowing his eyebrows together.

To this, Zitao laughs endearingly. This – this small act of making a phone call in the middle of the night to make sure their baby room will be safe – is so _telling_ of Yifan’s love and anticipation for their child.

It is insanely adorable to Zitao, that Yifan can’t help but to take care of these things, to babyproof the house even though they aren’t due until a few months from now.

Though as endearing as it is, Zitao finds Yifan growing with concern as time goes by. Yifan often went out of his way to buy a healthy assortment of fruits and vegetables for Zitao to cook, silently encouraging his lover to eat well. He had even found Yifan reading a number of parenting books from time to time.

There are many things he does to make sure they are well and prepared – all that in addition to letting Zitao leave work to conceive.

Zitao, on the other hand, is strangely the opposite of his partner: safe from the nausea that comes and goes and the occasional midnight craving, he is calm and content throughout the pregnancy. He spends most of his time resting, in between exercise and yoga that the doctor had approved of, and snuggling with Yifan when the elder arrives home.

By all means, it is an ideal situation for Zitao, but at times there are thoughts that linger in the back of his mind, that perhaps he should worry more. After all, he had been concerned about so many things before getting pregnant and now that he is, maybe he _should_ be thinking about those things again – but the doctor had told him to not stress too much, and whatever hormones that are surging inside of him are certainly helping him fulfill that advice.

Because of that, perhaps Yifan’s worry is healthy, to balance them out. But he wants Yifan to be happy, too, and to know that he is doing absolutely amazing. So Zitao smiles gently before saying, “It’s gonna be fine, Yifan. You don’t have to take care of everything right now.”

Yifan’s eyes resemble that of a puppy’s upon hearing the words. “I know, baby,” he sighs and his shoulders slump. He cradles Zitao close and pecks the younger’s cheek.

Zitao turns his head, resting it against Yifan’s shoulder, and his gaze is now fixed upon a certain piece of furniture in the baby room. Sensing his boyfriend had calmed down, Zitao decides to tease him about it.

“Besides, we just bought that crib a couple of days ago,” he says, referring to how the exact day after breaking the news to Yifan, Yifan immediately researched various cribs and finally made a purchase once he found one that he believed to be the best.

Yifan turns his head, following Zitao’s gaze and they both stare at the empty, white crib. “Well, that’s essential,” Yifan says, the expression on his face brightening.

Zitao shoots him a playful gaze before pulling away and walking over to the crib. He takes something from inside of it, and he holds it close against his chest.

A tiny, brown teddy bear wearing striped, blue pajamas and an equally precious blue hat.

Zitao is beaming, grinning from ear to ear until his eyes crinkle at the edges. “What about this? Is this an essential too?”

“Hey,” Yifan pouts. “It was a bonus from the crib, alright? We already bought a lot of dolls, so you know I didn’t get that on purpose.”

Zitao giggles. He takes a look at the tiny teddy bear in his hands. His chest clenches with love as he imagines that soon enough, there will be equally tiny hands that will hold it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fluff! Thank you so so much for reading and for being patient with me. Let me know what you think so far :)


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW blood, panic/anxiety attack, self-deprecation**
> 
> **skip to the bottom for a summary of this chapter**

is it truly better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all

* * *

Yifan stirs in his sleep, kicking lightly at the blankets that have bunched around his ankles. The temperature of the room suddenly feels warm around him. Despite that, out of habit, he turns his body, and with his eyes still closed, his arm reaches out to search for the warm body that sleeps next to him; to snuggle Zitao close.

His hand, however, does not find purchase. He touches empty sheets instead. He grumbles in his half-asleep state. Zitao is probably fetching a midnight snack, as he sometimes does due to his cravings, Yifan’s half-asleep mind reasons. With that, he dozes back to sleep.

* * *

Yifan wakes once more, and if, in retrospect, you had asked him what made him wake this time, he would not have been able to answer himself.

But still, he wakes. His mouth feels terribly dry, the sensation of his tongue so foreign. His limbs feel heavy, so do his eyelids. He turns over. The space next to him is still unoccupied.

Yifan does not know how much time has passed since his last bout of consciousness - time flows differently during the odd hours of the night when his mind had just been abruptly awoken during the deepest phase of sleep. It could have been a mere five minutes, but it could also have been hours.

A sense of unrest starts building in Yifan’s stomach as he realizes that the difference in time means so many different possibilities as to what’s happening - as to where Zitao is, as to _what’s happening to Zitao_.

There’s a voice in the back of Yifan’s mind that tells him what’s happening.

Yifan doesn’t trust this voice, doesn’t trust this thought or the portion of his mind that makes him anxious, that creates catastrophic and worst-case scenarios from the most trivial things going wrong. It’s a voice that he does not listen to, that he usually intentionally drowns out. 

But deep down, he knows that _this time_ , it is telling him the truth.

Yifan’s gut wrenches at the thought.

He scrambles, standing up from the bed rapidly. He sees stars from the sudden rush of blood to his head, almost falling over, but he continues to hurry outside of their room to the hallway to search for Zitao, feet unceremoniously thudding against the wooden floors of their home.

Yifan can feel the warmth dissipating from his body as he spots the door of the bathroom ajar - yellow fluorescent light bleeding onto the white walls of the hallway.

He stands in front of the door, hearing,

“ _Yifan. ...Yifan.”_

Zitao is whimpering so meekly from the other side of the door, were there any other sounds Yifan would not have been able to hear him.

Yifan pushes the door open. It swings with a creak. He steps in and his knees go weak.

Zitao is on the floor, slumped against the bathroom wall, body crouching into itself as he wraps his arms around his stomach. His face is contorted, too lost in the sensations of the pain in his body to even notice Yifan entering the room. And _oh God,_

 _Blood_. There’s blood. There’s blood seeping from his pants. Seeping onto the floor.

Yifan feels lightheaded and he nearly _faints_. His throat constricts as his mind races with so many questions, _how could this happen everything was just fine last night how did I not see the warning signs but there were no warning signs at all how could this happen_ –

But he breathes. He breathes. In and out, counting the numbers in his head to coax himself back into breathing properly - because he needs to stay afloat. Zitao needs him. At this very moment, Zitao needs him _the most_.

He crouches down onto the floor next to Zitao, reaching out and gently prying Zitao’s arms to prevent the younger from clutching at his own stomach too tightly. Zitao’s arms follow his motions, signaling that even though the younger has not garnered the strength to look at him, he has noticed Yifan’s presence. Yifan caresses Zitao’s arm.

“What happened, baby?” Yifan asks, his voice raw from sleep and so thick with worry. He tilts his head down to gain a proper view of Zitao’s face, to try and meet Zitao’s eyes. The younger’s eyes open and close continuously, _wincing_ at the pain.

It takes a moment for Zitao to answer. “I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth. “I woke up and I–” Zitao is cut off by a sharp, trembling gasp as a jolt of pain surges through him. “I felt cramps. And now I’m _bleeding_.” 

Yifan’s heart shatters, seeing Zitao like this; seeing Zitao in so much pain. Yifan’s own shock and anxiety are overridden by the intense need to protect Zitao, to make the pain go away for him, so for a second, Yifan closes his eyes. He makes a decision.

“ _Baby,_ ” he whispers, the words sounding calm and soft as they escape his mouth. He is doing everything he can to calm Zitao down. “I’m driving you to the hospital. Let me help you stand up, alright?”

Moving his body in any way is the last thing that Zitao wants to do but he nods because he trusts Yifan. He knows he can trust Yifan with anything. He hooks his arm over Yifan’s shoulder as Yifan wraps his arm around Zitao’s torso, careful to not put pressure in places that may cause Zitao more pain.

Zitao sobs as he recoils from the pain of standing up. Yifan contemplates carrying Zitao in his arms, but the position would most likely cause the younger even more discomfort, so he pushes past the uncertainty in his mind and they walk to the living room. Zitao leans against Yifan’s side, practically heaving all of his body weight onto Yifan.

Yifan sets Zitao down onto the sofa after placing a towel on the cushion, worried that he is still bleeding. In his mind he wishes that the soft surface will alleviate some of Zitao’s pain for a while, because he hastens back to their bedroom to pack their clothes into a duffel bag that will be necessary for their stay at the hospital.

Yifan returns to Zitao’s side as quickly as he left, finding Zitao leaned back against the couch. There are beads of sweat trailing down Zitao’s forehead, his hands clenching onto a pillow. Yifan frowns - Zitao seems so lost in the pain. Yifan leans down and even though his own hands are shaking, he strokes Zitao’s hair gently in an effort to soothe him and make him aware of his presence.

“Zitao,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “Let’s walk to the car, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?”

Zitao inhales a trembling breath. He opens his eyes, and Yifan can _see_ just how much effort it takes for him to do it, how much he is fighting what his body - what the pain - is telling him to do.

In a moment of clarity, he looks directly into Yifan’s eyes.

His eyes are brimming with tears and they absolutely _beg_ \- beg for _relief_. _Beg_ that everything would suddenly be fine, that they could somehow go back to a time before everything crumbled, before the future they envisioned slip past them like sand between fingers.

“Yifan,” he murmurs, lips quivering. “ _I’m scared_.”

Oh, does Yifan’s stomach _sink_ at the words - at the look in his lover’s eyes.

Yifan knows. Yifan knows of Zitao’s insecurities and worries that had made him reluctant to be a parent in the first place. He knows that Zitao thinks about the million different things that could go wrong - he knows that Zitao thinks of _this_ happening. 

Yet Zitao pushed past his own doubts. He understood the probability that the things he worries about may happen but nevertheless, he took the risk. He accepts it in stride for _Yifan_.

Hence what a cruel joke it was, that what Zitao fears the most has happened.

Right now there is nothing Yifan wishes more than to be able to make the pain go away for Zitao, to make everything be okay for them - but he can’t. _He can’t_.

All he can do is to cradle the back of Zitao’s head in his hands as he leans in to press a kiss onto Zitao’s temple. “I know, baby,” he says under his breath. And he pulls away ever so slightly, eyes filled with concern as he looks at the younger. “I’ll be there, alright? I promise I’ll be there.”

* * *

The ride to the hospital can only be described as a flurry - one moment Yifan driving them to the hospital, kept together by the sheer adrenaline brought on by the panic of the situation they’re in, the next he realizes that Zitao had fainted in the passenger seat beside him and _shit, shit_ he’s carrying Zitao’s limp body in his arms into the emergency room as nurses swarm around them and finally, the younger is laid down onto a bed and wheeled into a room that Yifan isn’t allowed to enter.

The nurses tell him to _calm down_ and that _we will let you know soon of his condition_ , and he’s coaxed to sit on one of the metal benches outside of the room, but how could he? How could he _calm down_ when his legs are restless and the constricting sensation in his chest is back - because this time, _this time,_ the panic creeps into him _completely_.

So he paces in circles, walking and walking and walking around the small expanse of the waiting area of the emergency room. The voice inside his head, the one that he usually reasons with or drowns out - it’s as if it has grown a sense of pride, telling him _I told you so_. And now it’s telling him a thousand more catastrophic scenarios about Zitao’s condition just on the other side of the walls that he’s standing next to, and he’s starting to _believe_ them.

The sounds of everything going on around him - the nurses walking back and forth, the creaking of the of trays and hospital beds being pushed, the chatter of people talking - they all sound so _loud_ , yet somehow _distant_ at the same time because there’s the vile voice inside of his head, an overbearing ringing in his ears, and unconsciously, he’s clawing at his own face and he can’t breathe. _He can’t breathe._

“ _Yifan_ ,” there’s a hand on his arm and Yifan only manages to glance in the direction of the person - _i_ _t’s Qian._ He already forgot that before driving off to the hospital he had texted Qian as to what’s happening, and suddenly she is already beside him. Vaguely, he makes out Qian’s face, she looks concerned, but his sight is as hazy as his mind, and there’s nothing he can do as his body is overwhelmed by the sensations of his panic.

“Calm down. Breathe. Breathe with me,” Qian’s small hands are guiding him to sit on the bench and he does. She gently rubs at Yifan’s back in an attempt to comfort him, but now Yifan’s arms are shaking as he leans forward, holding his head in between his hands. There’s a bead of sweat running down his forehead, and he’s still panting, until-

It goes. Just like that, as quickly as the panic comes and creeps into him, it goes.

Yifan exhales a long breath as he leans his head back against the wall behind him. He doesn’t like it; doesn’t _trust_ the calm that follows afterward. His limbs slump, and suddenly he feels the fatigue in his muscles - the ache from every moment he strained his body tonight, from supporting the mental labor that he went through.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” comes Qian’s soft voice from his side, a reassuring hand squeezing his knee.

Yifan thinks of thanking Qian for coming on such short notice, but he doesn’t find it in him to actually let the words come out of his mouth. Instead, he stares at his surroundings - the hospital and the emergency room around him.

Doctors and nurses buzzing about the corridors. Friends and families waiting, like he is right now, for their loved ones who are receiving treatment behind closed doors. Old magazines and newspapers strewn about the coffee tables, meant to preoccupy them while waiting. A vending machine at the end of the hallway.

He previously associated the imagery of a hospital - his surroundings right now - to be _happy_. He thought that the times he and Zitao would go to the hospital would be _happy_.

He would think that perhaps they would get another ultrasound done - this time together - maybe ask the doctors of the baby’s gender, and they would come home and celebrate. Maybe they would pass by the newborn nursery, looking at the babies in anticipation of their own.

But even more so, he would imagine that one day they would come to the hospital, anxious but equally excited and happy, and come home with a _baby_. A child of their own, signifying that they are a little family.

But now - _this_ \- this _isn’t_ how it should be.

* * *

The ground underneath Yifan collapses when he sees Zitao.

Zitao - _his_ Zitao who is usually so full of life, cheerful and beaming brighter than the sun itself, is laid down on the hospital bed. He seems so small despite the cramped space around him. From where he is standing by the doorway, Yifan can see that the usually healthy complexion of his lover is replaced by an ashen, cold flush that makes Zitao seem so _lifeless._

Yifan shuffles across the room, carefully setting himself down on the seat beside Zitao’s bed as if the smallest creak might wake the younger. He stares long and hard at his love whose eyes are closed; dry, chapped lips parted ever so slightly, expression blank - no sign of distress or discomfort, though no sign of consciousness either.

Yifan’s own hands are cold and clammy.

Qian is standing on the other side of the bed, expression solemn as she reaches out to comb the stray strands of hair from her baby brother’s face. “ _Oh, Zitao_ ,” escapes her lips in a quiet murmur, an expression of melancholy. Yifan could only barely hear it.

At the edge of the bed, a doctor who is holding a clipboard in his hands starts talking.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, his tone of voice soft as he glances at the both of them. “Unfortunately, these things happen, especially during the first trimester, even though Mr. Huang had almost reached his second.”

Yifan looks up at him, a wordless question.

“...It’s always hard to know the reason behind them,” the doctor says. He keeps his gaze fixed on Yifan for a moment as if studying his reaction and the nature of his relationship with Zitao. “But from his medical records, Mr. Huang is healthy. So please, don’t find any reason to blame yourselves.”

In truth, a part of him had expected such an answer - an answer tantamount to a heartless _these things just happen sometimes_ offered to him in a concealed, sympathetic tone. But Yifan nods anyway, somewhat absentmindedly.

“Is he in pain?” Yifan asks this time out of worry for his lover. The words feel unnatural as it rolls from his tongue. He realizes that it’s the first time he has talked in hours.

“No,” the doctor answers curtly. “The initial cramps had ceased and we have given him painkillers as well. There should be no more than minor discomfort.”

Yifan lets out a sigh, momentarily relieved.

The doctor, however, continues.

“But it was a good thing he was immediately brought here,” he states, glancing at the clipboard in his hands. “Mr. Huang had suffered a hemorrhage in the process. He lost a considerable amount of blood so we have given him a transfusion as well. He will recover soon enough.”

The color drains from Yifan’s face upon hearing the words. His arms and legs freeze - he stills. The atmosphere in the room shifts.

Qian seems to sense this, darting her gaze to Yifan who is now looking down at the floor, and then back to the doctor. She walks over to the edge of the bed, taking the initiative to thank the doctor which prompts him to leave the room.

Then she walks over to Yifan, placing her hand on his shoulder once more.

“Hey,” she mutters under her breath. “I’m going to take care of Tao’s insurance and paperwork,” though those things do need to be taken care of, it is mostly a pretext - she knows that Yifan needs time alone with Zitao, to fully comprehend the situation they are in. “If you need anything, call me, okay?”

It takes a few seconds before Yifan can answer, his breaths shaking. “Y-Yeah. Thank you, Qian,” he manages to croak out. With that, Qian leaves the room as well.

Yifan is now alone with his love.

He gathers every bit of courage that he has left to raise his head, to look at Zitao once more. Zitao’s chest is rising and falling steadily. If they were in any other circumstance than this, the sight of Zitao in such deep slumber would have brought peace to Yifan. But now, Yifan’s stomach turns. His throat feels thick _._ He wants to throw up.

He doesn’t know which part of all of this that just makes him so _sick_.

There is a gnawing in his stomach that is telling him, _you did this._ Had he never professed his want for a child, Zitao would not have needed to take the risk that he was reluctant to accept in the first place. He would not have to suffer the trauma brought on by the events of tonight - of having his fears come true. _This is because of you, you selfish piece of shit._

Yet a part of his mind - the part that is all too lenient on himself, too understanding and sympathetic, is telling him, _how could you have known?_ After all, there were no warning signs. Up to the moment he was awoken the second time that night, everything had been normal. There was no pain or discomfort on Zitao’s part, no any kind of gut feeling telling them that something might go wrong. 

But perhaps that is exactly the most _horrifying_ part of all of this: that there was no way that he could have known.

He did not feel Zitao climbing out of the bed that night, did not hear Zitao open and close the doors, nor did he hear Zitao’s whimpers in the bathroom which were concealed by the walls of their home. There was no reason other than a mere, _dumb_ stroke of luck that Yifan was awoken the second time that night.

It’s a truly terrifying realization that had he not waked the second time, he would not have been there for Zitao. He would have left Zitao writhing in pain, _alone_. He would have left Zitao to _bleed_ in the bathroom of their home.

And the thought that they were not able to keep their little loved one - the thought that the life they envisaged for themselves is now nothing but a remnant of the past - that thought, his heart simply cannot take.

Yifan reaches out, holding Zitao’s frail hands in his own which are trembling. They don’t have the familiar warmth of Zitao - oh, how wintry they feel against Yifan’s own fingers. Yifan leans in to kiss the delicate knuckles of his sleeping angel. He buries his face in Zitao’s lap and he weeps.

* * *

**Summary**

Yifan wakes in the middle of the night and he finds the space next to him on the bed is empty. He goes back to sleep thinking that Zitao is fetching a midnight snack. He wakes a second time to find that Zitao is still gone, he hurries outside the room and finds Zitao bleeding on the floor of their bathroom. Yifan then decides to drive Zitao to the emergency room.

While waiting for Zitao to receive treatment, Yifan suffers an anxiety attack and Qian arrives in time to help comfort him. When they are allowed to enter Zitao’s room, Zitao is already asleep and the doctor starts explaining that it is difficult to know why the miscarriage happened and that Zitao had lost a considerable amount of blood. After their conversation, Yifan is left alone with Zitao and he tries to reconcile the flurry of emotions he is feeling and comprehend the situation they are in, and he finally cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been sitting in my documents for weeks but i had to rewrite it and i _still_ feel like i didn’t do the emotions in this chapter justice. So… let me know what you think
> 
> To be honest, i feel kind of bad leaving you guys with this update :( But I promise that things will slowly be good for them.
> 
> Thank you for reading

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, this fic will be a lot of angst but also a lot of love. i would be grateful if you join in on the ride <3  
> this will be around 10 chapters long and i will be doing my best to update. thank you always for being patient with me and please let me know what you think :)


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